Boy O

A full day of you is too much and yet not enough.

We both grow older with ever diverging orbits.

You, my little moon, too soon off in the stars without me.

I’ll wizen those days, become hoary and dottering.

Maybe alone, ever waiting for your arc back.

Knowing that in the now I’m the pull that also pushes you away.

Forgive me for me, Boy O.

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